Our Scars Remind Us Where We've Been
by Anonamus-A
Summary: Kidnapped, the team knows they are going to die. What secrets are they willing to tell to the people they love when they know the end is coming? WARNING: SOME OF THE THINGS IN HERE ARE ABOUT ABUSE! Don't like, don't read. Team-centric. Rated T. -A
1. Drive

A/N: Okay, so I've been writing a story called Midnight. If you've been reading that, sorry, I'm not feeling it for the time being, so I'm posting this instead. It's not a happy story. In fact, it's very sad. I'll give warnings at the worst parts, but I warn you not to read this lightly. Hope you like it anyway. -A

Our Scars Remind Us Where We've Been

Chapter 1: Drive

_We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict. -Jim Morrison_

Bombings. They were always hard cases, seeing as how the UnSubs could get unpredictable. It was a race against time before someone else was killed.

The team had gone to the hospital and split up to interview survivors of the most recent attack. No one remembered seeing anything out of place. One moment they were on their way to work, the next they were on fire. It was a dead end.

On the way out, no one spoke. They were forced to stop because a bus stopped in front of them. A worried-looking elderly couple tried to get off as quickly as possible, but it was slow work. They were suprised to hear a small yelp from behind. Spinning around, they saw poor Reid with an arm around his neck and a gun pressed to his temple.

The man holding him certainly didn't have to work hard to overpower the genius. He was a fairly large man, built a lot like Morgan. He was grinning broadly as he firmly held the struggling man. As if reading their minds, he spoke.

"Draw your guns, and he's dead." They froze. "Now, when I say so, you will slowly set your guns on the ground. Phones too. Understand?" Reluctant, the agents nodded.

"No," Spencer hissed. "Don't listen to him."

"Shut it, you," the man growled, tightening his hold on Spencer's neck. Reid gasped for breath as his airway was restricted. The attacker returned his focus to the others. "Guns and phones on the ground. Now." Glaring daggers at the man, they did as told. "Good. You," he motioned to JJ, "come here. Slowly. Relieve my friend of his gun and cell, then get back."

She met Spencer's eyes breifly. His silently begged her not to, that nothing would be accomplished by doing what this guy wanted. Her eyes apologized for giving in to the attacker's demands. Sighing slightly, she walked forward.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Spencer as she pulled the gun out of the holster and sat it on the ground. Next, she pulled his cell out of his pocket and laid it by the gun. Slowly, JJ walked back to where she was before, eyes never leaving her friend's.

"Good," he repeated with a smile. "Now, we're getting on that bus." They didn't move. He hissed out an irritated sigh.

"I swear, I _will _kill him if you don't go. Right. Now." Still glaring at him, they did as told. The man followed, still with the gun to Reid's head, still holding him in a head lock.

It was hard to get up the stairs, Spencer realized, with less oxygen than he should have been recieving. Not to mention, he'd always been rather uncoordinated. Once on the bus, the frightened bus driver shut the door. The kidnapper releaced his hold on Spencer, sending the genius sprawling to the floor. Quickly, he collected himself and took a seat, sliding over to the window.

There were a few terrified civilians, one of which was a crying little girl. They soon saw why she was crying. The attacker had stapped a bomb to her, something that made all the agents' stomachs churn in anger. The kidnapper was the bomber.

Still smiling, the bomber turned to the front. "Drive," he commanded. And, with that, the bus took off into the unsuspecting public.


	2. No Way Out

Chapter 2: No Way Out

_There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from the hopelessness. -Author unknown_

Spencer looked at everything, trying to see if anything could be used as a weapon or means of escaping, but nothing came to mind. They managed to calm the little girl, Annabeth, telling her everything would be fine. They hoped that would be true, but knew it wouldn't.

Eventually, Spencer leaned back against his seat, unable to think about their grim situation any longer. Not that his thoughts or memories were much better. He'd gone through a lot in his short life. Hell, it was a miracle he was still kicking! Sort of ironic though, that, through everything, he never died when it would have been a blessing, but now, when he wanted to live, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

Morgan noticed his young friend lost in thought. Shooting a glance at the bomber, he crossed the aisle and sat in the available seat next to him.

"Something on your mind, Pretty Boy?" Bit of a dumb question...

"Not really," Spencer lied. Morgan just stared at him. Finally, the younger agent sighed. "I was just thinking about irony." Morgan arched an eyebrow.

"Irony?" Spencer shrugged.

"Think about it. We've all been through hell in our lives," he said softly. "There were times I've wished... I've wished I could have died, but didn't. Now, I don't want to die, but it seems inevidable." Morgan didn't bother saying that they'd be fine, that they'd figure something out. Why lie? Instead, Morgan went with a joke.

"Look who learned how to swear. Just in the nick of time, I'd say." Spencer gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "You've got something else bothering you. Something you're not telling me."

"How do you always do that?"

"Man, I'm a profiler."

"You always use that answer..." Spencer mused.

"And you're stalling. Spill."

"I never said I'd tell you anything," the younger man said, blushing a little.

"Why not? What harm could it do?"

"What if we make it out of this alive?"

"Then, whatever it is, it won't make me think any different of you." His words were sincere, firm but gentle. Spencer sighed.

"Remember what I told you when we were on the case in Texas? About the night on the football field?" His voice cracked a little. Morgan nodded. "I didn't tell you everything."


	3. Unbearable

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT THE SEXUAL ASSULT OF A MINOR. I strongly advise you to think before reading. It's not overtly detailed, I promise, but it's still very sad. Thank you for reading. -A

Chapter 3: Unbearable

**_There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt. -_Erma Bombeck__ **

_-Flashback-_

_"Guys!" the struggling boy wailed as one of the football players easily pulled him across the football field. "Stop! Let me go!" They just laughed._

_They came to a stop in front of a goal post. A few stepped forward as the one carrying him made escape impossible. Spencer didn't know what they were planning to do. It didn't take long to figure it out._

_The laughing football players began ripping his clothes off. Spencer fought harder, actually kicking one in the face. Angered, the football player slapped him. He hardly bit back the tears that threatened to spill._

_When they'd stripped him naked, laughing at the whimpering boy, someone pulled out a rope. "No!" he wailed again as two teens grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward, towards the goal post. His wristes were tied together in front of him, around the post._

_"Come on, let me go!" he begged. They just laughed again. Spencer pulled against the tightly-bound ropes, making them bite into his skin. Then, flashes of light exploded around him. Spencer crained his neck to see where they were coming from. The football players had pulled out cameras._

_After a while, the laughter died away. Spencer looked over his shoulder and saw the teenagers disapearing into the night. He didn't know wether to be relieved or more panicked. He really didn't like the dark._

_He wasn't sure how much time passed. Spencer had given up pulling against the ropes. He felt how raw his wrists were becoming, blood oozing out in spots. Out of nowhere, footsteps appeared behind him._

_"Thank God," he sighed. "Can you help me?" No answer. "Hello?" The person stopped right behind him, not a foot away. Spencer could feel hot breath on the back of his neck. The smell of booze enveloped him, making him dizzy. His hair stood on end, a shiver shot down his spine._

_Then, a warm hand pressed against his waist. "W-what are you doing?" His voice quivered. Silence. "Stop!" he plead as the hand started sliding slowly down. No such luck. Spencer squeezed his eyes closed, fighing back tears._

_Finally, Spencer's attacker pulled away. The boy let out a ragged breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The attacker gently kissed Spencer's neck (it was a miracle Spencer didn't throw up, as sick to his stomach he was), chuckled, and walked away, leaving the scared, battered, and hurt boy alone again._

_A few hours later, around midnight judging by the moon, the door on a storage shed near-by slammed shut. "Help!" Spencer cried. A flashlight's beam cut through the night, locking on him._

_"Hold on!" a man's voice called out, coming closer. As he stopped in front of Spencer, panting, he asked, "What happened?"_

_"Please, just untie me." Nodding, the man pulled out a pocket knife and sliced through the ropes, taking in Spencer's raw and bloody wrists._

_As soon as he was free, Spencer collected his discarded clothes and hastily pulled them on. "Are you okay, son?" the janitor asked. Spencer was on the verge of a total breakdown. He wiped away a tear before answering._

_"Yes," he lied unconvincingly. The man looked at him sympatheticly, stepping in front of him. When he tried to put a hand on his shoulder, Spencer jerked away._

_"Who did this?" Spencer didn't answer. The janitor sighed. "Can I at least give you a ride home?"_

_"No," Spencer said before running into the night. He wanted nothing more than to be safe in his mother's arms, hearing her tell him that everything would be okay. But, when he arrived home, she was in the middle of one of her 'episodes.' Instead, Spencer was comforting _her_. _

_When she finally fell asleep, he drug himself into the bathroom, into the shower. Unable to stand any longer, Spencer fell to his knees and let the hot water mix with his tears. He stayed there way after the water ran ice-cold._

_-End Flashback-_

When Spencer finished telling his story to Morgan, he blinked away the tears brimming in his eyes. Morgan's jaw was clenched, his finger digging into the rough fabric of the seats.

Spencer was right about having gone through hell in his life. His dad left when he was ten, leaving him to take care of himself and his mother. _That _happening. Gideon, who became a father figure to him, leaving. Tobias Hankle. Dilaudid. It just wasn't fair to the young genius. He was so kind and sweet. He didn't deserve any of that, but apearently the universe loved to pick on him.

When most people saw him, their first impression would be that he was weak. Morgan would admit, that's what he thought at first too. But, having gone through all of that, never being able to forget a moment of it, and to still be standing? That's nothing short of super-human.


	4. Shame

A/N: Hey, everyone. Hope you're liking the story so far. I realize it's a bit darker than my normal stuff (that I let other people see, anyway), but I think it's good to branch out from time to time! Also, this chapter will be shorter and the secret isn't really that... well, it's not really a secret. The rest of the chapters will be better, I hope. Hope you like it anyway. -A (P.S. Little bit of Morgan/Reid Bro-mance in here for ya!)

Chapter 4: Shame

_A man should never be ashamed to own that he has been wrong in the past, which is but saying... that he is wiser today than yesterday. -Jonathan Swift_

"I was never going to tell that to anyone," Spencer said softly, refusing to look Morgan's eyes.

"I get it," he told his friend. "Really, I do." He bit his lip, but was unable to stifle the question burning on the tip of his tongue. "Did you ever find out who...?" Spencer shook his head, making his hair dip in his eyes. Morgan swore to God that, if they got out of there alive, and they happened to be on a case in Vegas, that son of a bitch had better hope Morgan doesn't find out.

Derek didn't know what to say. He could see the hurt in his friend's eyes. It was the pain caused by reopening long-healed wounds. Silence enveloped them. Finally, Spencer spoke again.

"Morgan, do... do you have anything you said you'd never tell? Or something you're ashamed of?" Morgan sighed. He did, in fact.

"Yeah. When I had just started in the FBI, I was working Violent Crimes. A young woman came in with a message on her phone from her ex-boyfriend. It was a death threat. I thought he was just some punk trying to scare her, but I promised I'd look into it. I drug my feet, though. A week later, her body was found. She was raped, beaten, and strangled. We never caught him."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, if I'd done my job, she'd still be alive."

"We can't dwell on the 'what if's.' You'll drive yourself crazy. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. But that doesn't make it any easier to _not _think about."

"I know."


	5. Beaten

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT CHILD ABUSE!

Chapter 5: Beaten

_A beast does not know that he is a beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast, the less he knows it. -George MacDonald_

JJ saw Morgan and Reid talking, each with a morose epxpression. Trying to get her mind off what was to come, she looked around. Hotch looked more brooding than normal. Biting her lip, she sat next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said as he looked up.

"Just... thinking."

"Clearly... It's Jack, isn't it?" He nodded once.

"He already lost on parent." His voice was a low whisper, an attempt to stop it from cracking.

"I know. I can't help but think of Henry." She sighed. "At least he'll have his daddy and 'fairy' godmother Garcia to look after him." She studied Hotch's face, hoping tears wouldn't spll from her eyes. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"Yeah. I was so afraid to become a father," he admitted.

"Really?" He nodded.

"I was scared I would become _my _father."

"What's that mean?" she asked. He sighed.

"I've never told anyone this." Hotch hesitated.

"You don't have to tell me..."

"It's okay. My father... he was abusive." She couldn't keep the suprise off her face. She never would have guessed. "I was afraid to go home, not knowing what mood he'd be in. He never raised a hand agains Shaun, and I'm glad about that. His alcoholism made it worse. There... there were nights he actually beat me unconsious."

This was the most vulnerable she'd ever seen Hotch. Though, this did explain a lot of things about his personality, like why he rarely smiled and had very little sense of humor. She, unable to stop herself, tried to imagine a young Hotch, afriad to go home, trying to hide bruises from the rest of the world.

"I can't say I was too upset when he was gone," he admitted. "It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life putting people like him away. And I have." Dispite everything, JJ smiled a little. Hotch _was _putting away people like that. And, he was kind and caring, and a great father. He was, in no way like his father.


	6. Bleed

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT SELF-HARM!

Chapter 6: Bleed

Hotch looked at the woman sitting next to him. She was clearly lost in thought. Maybe she was thinking about Will and Henry. Or something traumatic from her own past. Eventually, the curiosity won out.

"What are _you _thinking about, JJ?" His soft voice made her jump, telling him that she was deeply lost in though.

"Oh, nothing," she lied. He just stared at her. She sighed. "My sister." If memory servered, JJ's sister had commited suicide, leaving her eleven-year-old sister and loving parents behind.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.

"Why not?" she said with a shrug. "I was almost twelve. I coped... for a while. Then her birthday came up and I started making a downward spiral. I contemplated suicide myself, but I knew I couldn't hurt my family like that."

"What did you do?" She muttered something, but it was too quiet for him to hear. "What was that?" She sighed.

"I cut myself." His eyes widened.

"You..." She nodded.

"In places people would never see. Mostly my thighs. For a while no one noticed anything wrong with me. Then my mom came in the bathroom when I was about to put on my pants in the morning and saw them. I got help and I never did it again." Hotch was speechless. He didn't need to say anything. His eyes said it all. Life sucks, especially for everyone on the team. But, dispite all the hell in their lives, the turned out pretty damn good. :)


	7. Escape

A/N: Okay, I have absolutly nothing for back-stories for Emily and Rossi :( I know, that sucks. But, I'm going with the old saying 'let's don't and say we did.' If you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them and if I like it, I'll add it in later, kay? Okay, so moving right along.

Chapter 7: Escape

Eventually, after silence overwhelmed them, the agents converged together in four seats, two each. They kept their voices low as they spoke.

"I don't know about you guys," Morgan said, "but I'm not ready to throw in the towel. Not yet."

"Do you happen to have a plan then?" Emily asked, rather snarky about it. His face fell a little, as he did not. "That's what I thought."

"Well, Miss Doom-and-Gloom, I don't see you coming up with anything either." Hotch sighed.

"Guys, not now." They shut up promptly, knowing fighting would get them nowhere. They were silent again. Then, a speculative look crossed Reid's face.

"I know that face," JJ said, "that's your 'I remember something important face.'" He raised any eyebrow at her lame termanology, but ignored it.

"Yeah." He dropped his voice so low that they all strained to hear it. "Hotch, don't you always keep a second gun in your ankle holster?" Everyone's mouths fell open as they turned to Hotch. He looked like he was feeling incredily stupid, which he probably was. After a moment, he face-palmed, sighing.

"I'm an idiot," he said.

"You couldn't have remembered that earlier?" Rossi asked Spencer, sounding irritated. The younger agent's face grew red as he averted his eyes.

"Don't blame Reid," Hotch sighed. "It's my fault."

"Well," Morgan said, "let's get the hell out of here." With a nod, Hotch pulled the gun out and pointed it at the bomber. After a moment, the bomber turned around, narrowing his eyes when he saw the gun.

"How?"

"Long story," Emily sighed. All the agents were now on their feet. The civilians looked hopeful. That was, until the bomber pulled out a gun and a cell phone. The phone probably activated the bomb strapped to the little girl... The gun was pointed at Hotch.

"What, are you going to shoot us then blow up?" Morgan asked.

"Don't tempt me." The bomber casually walked closer. _Cocky son of a bitch... _most of them thought.

"Put down the gun and the cell phone," Hotch ordered. The bomber ignored him, pointing the gun at Morgan.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The bomber considered for a moment before casually moving the aim.

"Hm... I think I know who you'd do anything I told you to save." With that, the point of the gun came to a rest by Spencer's head. The young agent looked impassive.

"I'm not afraid of you either." But he could see the others stiffen. "Hotch, take the shot."

"Yes, _Hotch,_" the bomber mocked. "Take the shot, just know you'll be as good as signing his death certificate."

"Don't listen to him," Reid protested. "Save the civilians. Don't worry about me." The bus slowed to a stop as they came to a stop light. In the corner of his eye, Spencer saw movement, but ignored it, refusing to break eye contact with the bomber. He wouldn't give him that satisfaction. But the bus didn't start moving after a moment.

Then there was a _crack! _and the bomber slid to the floor, unconsious. The bus driver was standing there, broom in hand. He was shaking from head to toe, but looked rather pleased with himself.

CM

So, everything worked out, in the end. They got the bomb removed from the little girl, the bomber was arrested, and the team was on their way home. Morgan and Reid sat across from one another. Morgan was staring at Spencer as he worked his was through a large book. After a while, it started annoying the younger agent.

"What?" he snapped in a very un-Reid-like way.

"Nothing, why?"

"You're staring at me, and it's annoying me." Morgan rolled his eyes. After a second, Spencer understood why. "I knew I shouldn't have told you what I did..."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see it in your eyes, you're already looking at me differently."

"It's not just that," Morgan assured him.

"Then what?"

"The way you stood up the the bomber. You didn't even flinch when he pointed the gun at you."

"So? I wasn't afraid. I knew that, even if I died, we'd have saved innocent lives, and..." Reid shrugged. "I guess that made it seem worth it." Morgan stared at him again.

"You know, people don't give you all the credit you deserve. You're stronger than they realize."

"Right," Spencer said, incredelous.

"And, appearently, you're stronger than _you _realize, too."


End file.
